


Days Like Today

by Tiptapricot



Category: DCU, Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Crying, Gen, breakdowns, clark feels guilty when he can't save ppl :(, someone give this boy a hug, too many responibilities
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-29
Updated: 2020-02-29
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:15:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22947643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tiptapricot/pseuds/Tiptapricot
Summary: Clark deals with the fallout of a bad day.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	Days Like Today

**Author's Note:**

> I was going to write something happy for Clark's birthday but this came out instead. My boy needs some love.

It’s half past nine when Clark brushes past the drapes into his apartment. He’s caked in cement dust and grime, a trail following him all the way from the balcony. 

He couldn’t care less.

Someone had rigged a bomb under an office building on Main Street. No one knew it was there until it went off, until hundreds of people were buried under rubble and Clark was too late to swoop in and save the day. He tried to help with the relief efforts as best he could, but… finding a body isn’t the same as finding a survivor.

Clark drops onto his couch, reveling in the feeling of sinking down, of not having to float anymore. His head falls back to rest on the cushions and he lets out a quiet breath. He’s sure he’s got a billion messages from Jimmy and Lois waiting on his phone, but he can’t bring himself to look right now. He needs some time alone. He needs space. He--  _ god. _

His fingers find their way to his cape, the cloth twisting comfortingly between his fingers, and he breaks.

There’s a long, shuddering breath that falls past his lips like a whispering ghost, his body curling forward against his knees. The tears are slow and messy, dribbling down his nose and lips and chin. His shoulders shake and his whole body pulls in on itself, and yet he barely makes a sound.

This is how it’s always been.

He tried to save Farmer Ashton’s animals from a barn fire when he was nine. Afterwards he huddled in the bushes in his smoking tee and jeans, remembering how the pigs squealed and screamed when he couldn’t get to them fast enough. He stopped an airplane from crashing into the city his first week in Metropolis. When the smoke cleared, he didn’t listen to the reporters, he watched the families grieving for the loved ones who had been near the burst engines.

Big strong Superman, always brave, always there to help, always saving the day. He wishes it was that simple. There's always someone he can't save, and every day he has to deal with the guilt of knowing that. But how many times will he have to watch families get ripped apart because  _ he _ was too late, because  _ he _ couldn’t stop it?

Clark takes a deep breath, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes.

“Why did you have to send me here?” He murmurs. “Why do I have to do this? To be this?” His voice cracks, his breath hot and moist against his wrists. He doesn’t know who the questions are for. Or maybe he does. Or maybe it doesn’t matter. They all have the same answer, the one it’s always been, the one Clark knows by heart.

Faster than a speeding bullet, more powerful than a locomotive, able to leap tall buildings in a single bound, now and forever,  _ he is Superman. _


End file.
